Don't think I'm exaggerating when I say Stephanie Mills' "Never Knew Love Like This Before" is one of the all-time great R&B songs. (Michael reminded me of Steph when he bought "What Cha Gonna Do With My Lovin'" on the iTunes the other day, which is his favorite song of hers). I'm still kicking myself for not already having "Never Knew Love" on my iPod all these years -- just makes me happy every time I hear it.

Interesting to note that the track's co-writer and producer, Reggie Lucas, would end up collaborating a couple years later with Madonna on her debut LP. Lucas produced most of the album and wrote "Physical Attraction" and "Borderline," the latter of which was Madonna's first Top 10 hit and arguably the album's best song. (Note the similar opening notes of "Never Knew Love" and "Borderline.") Madonna reportedly wasn't entirely happy with Lucas' effort. However, looking back on the songs they created together -- "Lucky Star," "Burning Up," "I Know It," "Think of Me" and the aforementioned "Borderline" and "Physical Attraction," all of which are classics -- it's hard to imagine anyone doing something better. If Madonna ever decides to do an album of covers -- and after "Hard Candy," isn't it about time she did? -- I propose "Never Knew Love Like This Before" be the first song she records. Would love to hear her take on this pre-"Madonna" Reggie Lucas classic.

Interesting to read that founding Blondie keyboardist Jimmy Destri -- who wrote many of the band's best songs including their most recent hit, "Maria" -- had just sold his 4,500-square-foot Victorian mansion in Bay Ridge for $1.3 million. More than anything, I was happy to hear someone in Blondie had that kind of money -- if you recall, they were robbed blind by their original manager and then took a 17-year hiatus -- and especially happy for Destri, who was unceremoniously pushed out of the band after forming a substance-abuse problem during the band's late '90s reunion. Happy to hear Destri is thriving these days as a drug and alcohol counselor, although it sure would be nice to see him play with the band again sometime soon -- a proposition that seems unlikely if history is any indication.

One thing's for sure, though. Someone's ready to start living in the real world. How else could you explain willingly giving up the ability to pretend you're living in Mary Tyler Moore's fab old digs?

Can a sequel to "The Social Network" be far behind? The New York Times is reporting that Tyler and Cameron Winklevoss say misinformation led them to agree to a $65 million deal with Facebook and they now want to undo the settlement. Generally speaking, I have a big problem with people trying to back out of such agreements -- which are by definition not exactly what someone wants, but what they're willing to accept. But every case is different -- new information can taint things -- and with "The Social Network" likely to be my No. 1 movie for 2011 (check back next week after I've seen "Blue Valentine"), I wouldn't mind a second helping of this offline drama!

Dear XXX: You are the reason people are surprised when I tell them I am 41. It's not that I look especially young for 41. It's that everyone who says they are my age is clearly sixty. Please stop lying about your age. It only serves to scare 30 year olds into thinking the next ten years ahead of them will be rough roads indeed. Sincerely, derek

ESPN had former Ranger and Hairdo Hall of Famer Ron Duguay on last night doing hockey analysis. Can't say I Remember this one, but Michael tells me he quite the sex symbol back in the '70s and '80s. He still looks great at 53 -- sort of a Canadian Pat Cash -- but you can really see his Jon Bon Jovi appeal in this old poster. Wikipedia says Duguay was "more widely known as a pop icon and a sex symbol than for his athletic talents," so I guess it should come as no surprise that he also made a Sasson commercial with some teammates back in the day in which he shakes his butt in designer jeans -- ooh la la!

After repeatedly failing to get my squeamish lover to go with me, finally saw "127 Hours" last night, along with Scooter and Matt. (Scooter's boyfriend was working and Matt's said he'd rather have his own arm cut off than sit through it.) The movie is nicely done. James Franco, as Aron Ralston, definitely deserves an Oscar nomination, even if I'd award it to Colin Firth for lifetime achievement if not necessarily a stronger performance in "The King's Speech." It's gorgeously filmed and well-paced, despite its claustrophobic setting and (essentially) one-man cast. I loved the montages Danny Boyle employed -- a la "Trainspotting" -- to convey Aron's various stages of distress -- delusions, fantasies, hopes, dreams and fears -- with clever music choices to orchestrate them.

All that said, "127 Hours" truly isn't for everyone -- and I don't just mean pussies like Michael and Jose. For me, rather than inspiring deep sympathy for Aron, the film mainly served to bolster my anti-outdoors edict. (I don't have a problem with someone sawing off his own arm, it's the idea of that someone would intentionally go hiking that bothered me!) I don't suppose you have to want to be or do everything you see in a film for you to feel like it was an exceptional piece of work. But in this case, I walked away feeling like a good article in the Sunday Times Magazine would have sufficed. My grade: B.

Besides all the hot men in my mom's old Avon catalogs, 1981 was also the year my favorite tennis player of the era -- Tracy Austin, then just 18 -- was on the payroll hawking her signature line of wares for America's favorite multi-level marketer. Venus and Serena Williams would later follow in her footsteps -- or were they drag queens doing Venus and Serena? -- and Jennifer Capriati would endorse Oil of Olay -- at age 14!! But Tracy's Avon campaign was by far the best a gal on tour ever looked in her "civilian" clothes. I'm still kicking myself for not getting a "pic with" when I met her that summer in Rancho Bernardo, California, during the Wells Fargo tournament leading into her second U.S. Open victory, where she defeated Martina Navratilova in a thrilling third-set tiebreaker. Little did we know, it would be the end of a great tennis career -- although her popularity as a corporate pitchwoman, for products like Canon, 7Up, Pony sneakers, Gunze apparel and her own line of Spalding tennis rackets, continued for a number of years, especially in Asia.

If I were going to concoct an imaginary plot of a straight-to-DVD film, it would be "Bed & Breakfast," a new romantic comedy about a sexy, uptight big-city woman who finds love in the most unexpected place -- a small country town. (Imagine!) I'm gonna go out on a limb and guess she HATES the town but then grows to love it, and she HATES the guy she eventually falls in love with. The casting is inspired, though, with Dean Cain, Julia "Stephanie from NEWHART" Duffy AND Eric Roberts -- mincing around as a gay guy. Is this actually happening?!!!

Tuesday, December 28, 2010

Just wanted to give a shout-out to the guys over at QueerClick's Sticky site (not work friendly), who kindly post links from time to time to items on KIT212. If you're looking for fun gay stuff -- naked guys, porn and all things pop culture -- then you can't beat Sticky. Just don't do it at work -- unless you work at a gay bathhouse! See for yourself HERE.

Very sad to hear that Teena Marie died Sunday at her home in Los Angeles. I always knew she was a big star in the R&B world and a critics' darling. But as a casual fan, I had no idea she had led such an interesting life, including an appearance on "The Beverly Hillbillies" when she was 8. At 54, she was way too young to die. A real loss to the music world. Read her NY Times obituary HERE. RIP, Lovergirl.

Monday, December 27, 2010

Forgot to post this yesterday on Boxing Day. As hard as it may be to believe, my pre-racket-club years (age 8-9) were spent boxing at the Crowell Recreation Center in Detroit. I actually come from a long line of boxers, so this seemed completely natural at the time, especially given my older brothers' obsession with professional fighting (Bill had Muhammad Ali posters all over his room and compiled his own rankings). I don't remember landing too many punches back then, but the thing I do recall excelling at was the leg weights -- how gay am I? I started "working out" in third grade! -- although you'd never guess it by looking at me today.

That's my brother Terence and me sparring briefly (note the Kristy McNichol 'do) before my brother Bill's big match against David Stubbs, in April 1976. The ref stopped it after the second round, but you gotta love my brother's slimming green tank -- he doesn't look an ounce over 88 pounds!

What many people don't know about underwear model extraordinaire Todd Sanfield is that he is also a bit of a brain, currently pursuing a Doctor of Pharmacy. Until he gets his degree, however, this new layout of Sanfield in Fantasticsmag is definitely good for what ails ya. See the complete spread HERE.

Sunday, December 26, 2010

Steve Hayes reviews Doug Sirk's "All That Heaven Allows" and Todd Haynes' "Far From Heaven," which was inspired by Sirk's 1955 film about a May-December romance between Jane Wyman and Rock Hudson.

Footnote: You probably heard recently that a Broadway musical adaptation of "Far From Heaven" was in the works. (God, why?) It's been a long time since I saw the film, but I really remember being underwhelmed by it at the time, despite the fact that on paper it's exactly the kind of thing I would love. Perhaps it's time to revisit it.

Friday, December 24, 2010

Was sitting next to two exuberant tourists tonight in a coffee shop when I remembered it's the 25th anniversary of my first trip to New York City, a whirlwind Christmas adventure with my friends Greg and Nina -- with a cameo by my brother Terence -- over the holiday break in 1985. While I had already figured out New York was the place I wanted to live when I was a young child -- the idea of not having to "go play in the backyard" seemed really appealing to me as long as I can remember -- it was the utter feeling of awe I experienced the first time I got out of a taxi in Midtown Manhattan -- "Gorham, please!" -- that sealed the deal. That Christmas in New York is the fondest memory of my adolescence, and each year around this time I have wonderful flashbacks of seeing Greg experience snow for the first time, Nina cracking up explaining how she convinced her parents that staying in a hotel room with three guys was perfectly OK, and Terence -- who had to fly later because he couldn't reschedule one of his finals -- announcing his arrival to the front desk after we specifically told him to come straight up to the room so we could avoid paying a surcharge for having an extra person. (We still love ya, T!) It felt like the city was all ours as we slid up and down the icy sidewalks. A quarter century later and Christmas in New York is still my favorite place in the world -- and I'm still in awe. Hope you have a great Christmas wherever you are!